Anthology: Bad Boys Of Summer Part 25

When the light changed, he turned onto Lumina and then onto his own street, the faint jingle of an ice cream truck somewhere close by. He smiled. He and his brother had raced the truck in their neighborhood every night in the summer, h.o.a.rding sofa-cus.h.i.+on dimes all day to pay for their rocket pops and creamsicles. There was a memory he didn't have to hide from, at least.

But his smile faded as he neared his house. Because there in the driveway was Mackenzie's Jeep. And there on the porch steps was Mackenzie herself, arms folded over her chest, her hair scooped back in a no-nonsense ponytail, her brow, he saw as he drove closer, furrowed in a frown.

s.h.i.+t.Well, that storm certainly came up faster than he'd expected.

He pulled into his driveway, parking behind her Jeep, and climbed out. Here it was. The end.f.u.c.k. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to make love to her one last time, imprint her scent and the feel of her body and the sound of her voice in his brain.

Wasn't going to happen, he knew. Not when her expression was made entirely of thunderclouds. So he asked the first question that came to mind. "How'd you find me?"

"You left an invoice in the studio, and it had your billing address on it," she said simply, her voice flat and tired. "I wasn't above snooping. Especially after I discovered just what you've been keeping from me."

f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k f.u.c.k f.u.c.k.So much for telling her himself. As if he hadn't had a million opportunities he'd been too chicken to take.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked, stepping around her and fitting the key in the door, trying to keep his voice level. "I'd like it, if you would. If you'll let me explain."

She followed him without a word, and stood inside the dark front room of the house as he closed the door behind her, taking in the big nothing he'd done with the place. An old black leather sofa rested against one wall. A huge TV was set up opposite it on a cheap entertainment center he'd picked up at discount place, and an old trunk served as the coffee table. One lonely floor lamp stood in the corner.

It was embarra.s.sing, now that he saw it through her eyes. It wasn't a home, itwas a cave. If she saw the empty field of the mattress in his bedroom, the only furniture there, she'd probably pity him.

"I don't know what there is to say, Leo." She sat down suddenly, and when he looked at her he saw her eyes were full of tears. "I thought...well, I guess I thought you trusted me. I don't know why you couldn't tell me what had happened to you. I still don't know why you're hiding it."

He tossed his keys on the trunk, and sat down next to her. He couldn't touch her-she was holding herself rigid, protecting against some kind of blow, even if it was only an emotional one.

He opened his mouth to speak, although he had no idea what he was going to say, but she beat him to it, the words rus.h.i.+ng out through her tears. "I know you didn't plan this. I know I didn't. I know what happened between us was a surprise. But I can't help thinking that you knew all along it wasn't going to last, that when you took those pictures and talked about remembering me, you knew it would end. And I don't knowwhy. Why, Leo? Why couldn't you trust me with this?"

f.u.c.k it, he was holding her now, even if she fought him off with a stick. Sliding closer, he hauled her against him, murmuring into her hair. "You've got it all wrong, Mackenzie. I do trust you. I was ashamed. I'm not what you want. I don't fit into the life you're trying so hard to build for yourself. Do you want some f.u.c.ked-up ex-rocker with an alcohol problem standing beside you in a church, saying 'I do?' Raising your children? Hiding from the press in case someone wants to revisit the crash-and-burn of Joe's Garage on a slow news day?"

She wrestled away from him until she could look him in the eye. The disbelief in her expression nearly killed him.

"That's not who you are, Leo." He'd never heard her voice quite so fierce before. "Those are things you did, things that happened to you. The man I know is no one who should be ashamed of himself. He's a hard worker, and he's kind, and he's loving and imaginative and generous-"

He cut her off with a barking laugh, and got up from the couch to pace the length of the room. She didn't see, she didn't want to. She was so much more than he deserved, because her heart was the generous one.

"You don't want to know how much of those stories are true, Mackenzie," he said, his back to her. "You really don't. I drank, I used drugs, I was out of control. High on the celebrity thing, fulfilling every stupid expectation of a rocker I'd ever heard. I cheated on every girlfriend I ever had, because I had hot-and-cold-running women every day. I made my mother cry, for G.o.d's sake. I made her terrified that I would OD. I crashed my car, I broke promises. I f.u.c.king self-destructed, okay?"

He winced at the feel of her hand on his back, soft and warm through the sweaty fabric of his T-s.h.i.+rt. "And then you put yourself back together," she whispered. "And you did a d.a.m.n good job."

"Did I?" he said, turning around and fixing her with his gaze. If she touched him again, he would break. "I'm hiding. I wasn't honest with you. At first I was so worried about what would happen if you went through with taking photos of me, I couldn't think about anything but more press, more local reporters. And then you meant so much to me, I couldn't bear what you would think if you knew the truth."

She shook her head silently, her eyes full again, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. But he wasn't finished.

"Don't you get it, Mackenzie?" he said, walking across the room, away from her, away from the grief and the pain in her eyes. "Even after I figured out I was falling for you, I kept going. I kept drawing out the work on the studio, finding things to fix in the cottage, so I could have you to myself a little longer. Even when I knew you would never want a man like me if you knew the truth, even when I figured out I was hurting you by staying..."

"You're not making sense," she murmured, following him, taking his hand and forcing him to look at her. In the half light, her eyes were incredibly dark, but they were full of emotion. Understanding, compa.s.sion. Love.

"Aren't I?" he said. "Didn't I do those things?"

"Maybe," she said, winding her arms around him. Her body's soft, giving curves felt so good against him. "Everyone makes mistakes, Leo. Not everyone tries to correct them."

Had he done that? Or had he just hidden? Sure, he didn't drink anymore, and he worked hard at an honest business, but what about the rest? All those years ago, he'd done whatever the h.e.l.l he wanted to, whatever felt good, because no one told him not to. A little excess was practically a pre-req for a rocker. And no one had cared about him, not really-no one was interested in Leo Dawson, the man. They wanted Leo Dawson, the rock star, the guy with money and influence on the music scene, the guy with bottles of scotch to burn and no second thoughts about doing the craziest thing anyone could propose. They wanted the scent of fame to rub off on them. They wanted stories to tell their friends. They wanted the perks, the photo ops, the backstage pa.s.ses. And the few people he'd cared about-his family, his long-ago girlfriend, the one who'd been there when Joe's Garage hit it big-had paid the price. He wouldn't do that to Mackenzie.

Not that she was giving him a choice, apparently.

Tugging him toward the sofa, she pushed him back onto it and climbed in his lap, straddling his thighs and smoothing her hands over his skull.

"I could tell you so many things," she said, leaning down to kiss his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, feather-light kisses that were tenderness as well as desire. "I could explain the things I've learned about myself, the things I've figured out about life and love, just in the past few hours. But I'll keep it to this. I don't want perfect. I don't want a picture-postcard life, or what's traditionally expected of a woman like me. I want you. I want the...eating seafood together, and making love in the rain, and crazy-sounding red cabinets that look awesome, and showing you my photographs, and maybe, just maybe, hearing you play the guitar. I want to be together, no matter how hard it gets, because it's going to be worth it. Love always is."

Love. His heart thudded against its cage, and a knot of emotion formed in his throat. She loved him. She knew who and what he was, and she loved him. He could spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

"A life with you is more than worth it," he said between sudden, hot kisses, his hands tangling in her hair. "Always, only with you. I love you, Mackenzie Pruitt. I may have saved your shed, but you saved me. From myself."

"I had ulterior motives," she whispered, stroking his chest, her cheek warm and soft against his jaw. "I want you around for good, Leo Dawson. I want to spend my life with you."

He couldn't believe he was actually hearing those words. Couldn't believe that it wasn't over between them, that she loved him no matter what. It was almost too much. And he was going to prove to her, every day, that she hadn't made the wrong choice. That loving him was going to make her happier than any other woman on earth.

He stood up, bringing her with him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, desire coursing through him in a hot wave. "I want to start the rest of our lives right now," he murmured. "In my bedroom."

She kissed him, hot and urgent, as he made his way toward the bed. "I thought you'd never ask."

Here's a peek at Karen Kelley's

h.e.l.l ON WHEELS.

Available now from Brava.

Cody sipped her beer, her legs stretched out with her boots propped on one of the four chairs circling her table. The bar was dim; only a few low-watt overheads kept the room from total darkness.

It was the middle of the week and not very crowded-two men sat on stools at the bar while three women on the prowl lounged at one of the scarred tables closer to the door. Cody had already seen them turn down the two men as they waited for something better to come along. Apparently, they were picky about who they screwed.

She couldn't fault them for that.

She rested her beer against her lips and tipped the bottle. The Bud Light was already room temperature. h.e.l.l, she didn't know why she was still there. A week of little sleep, living on crackers smeared with peanut b.u.t.ter and drinking flat soda had taken its toll on her. She should be at home in bed. Tiredness seeped out of every pore.

When she glanced up, the reason she'd hung around strolled through the door looking dangerously attractive. Like her, he'd gotten rid of his vest. The deep green T-s.h.i.+rt molded to each sinewy muscle while his jeans hugged every inch of his s.e.xy thighs. He could put Calvin Klein male models to shame.

He surveyed the room until his gaze landed on her, and stopped. The little half grin that always sent tingles down her spine appeared-as well as the tingles down her spine.

c.r.a.p, she should've left. But then, maybe he was worth a little self-torture.

Casually, she watched as he came toward her. The three women zeroed in on him, their antennae going up. She could almost see the drool running down the sides of their mouths.

One of the three stood. Apparently, the leader of the pack. A frizzy-haired blond bimbo withf.u.c.k me flas.h.i.+ng on her forehead. She wore a tight black leather skirt up to her a.s.s cheeks and a knit s.h.i.+rt so low her silicone-enhanced b.o.o.bs practically spilled out. She went so far as to stand in Josh's path.

Cody had to give Josh credit-he walked around the woman as if she wasn't even there and didn't seem to notice when she flounced to the bar to order another drink.

He stopped at Cody's table. "You waited."

"Yeah, right, in your dreams," she said with a very unladylike snort. "As soon as I finish this I'm out of here. Sorry to disappoint you."

He pulled a chair out, flipped it around, and straddled it. He didn't look a bit put out by her rudeness as he rested his chin on the top chair rung and stared at her.

What the h.e.l.l had she been thinking? Hanging around the bar this long had been a terrible idea.

She'd reached her self-torture limit, and then some. Josh was one of the bad boys. The ones who enjoyed the chase almost as much as they did the victory.

Foreplay. That's all it was to them. She'd seen too many females fall prey to a man in low-slung jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat. Josh had left his hat behind, but he might as well be wearing it the way the three women had given him the once-over.

"Can't we just talk?"

"Your kind never wants to just talk," she countered.

"I won't even touch you." He straightened, opening his hands in supplication. "Talking, that's all we'll do."

"Talking?" She didn't trust him, but then, she didn't trust anyone.

"Yeah, don't you feel it?"

He continued before she could ask what exactly she was supposed to be feeling-other than s.e.xually starved.

"You know, the rush of adrenaline that quickens your pulse when you bring down a skip. It takes me at least a couple of hours to unwind. Help me out. Just talk."

Bad thing was, she knew exactly what he meant. She might look calm on the outside, but on the inside she was wound tighter than an eight-day clock. She doubted talking would help, but he was right. She didn't want to go home to a cold, empty apartment.

She nodded toward him. "You talk, I'll listen."

"Fair enough. What do you want to know? Ask me anything and I'll tell you."

Yeah, right. Let's see how long it would take him to clam up when she got personal. "Why do you date so many women, but never stay with one longer than a month?"

He grinned. "So, you have been paying attention."

Have a look at

AUSSIE RULES.

by Jill Shalvis.

Available now from Brava!

From the other side of the aircraft, the door opened. A set of stairs released. A moment later, two long legs emerged, clad in dark blue trousers, clean work boots, and topped by a most excellent a.s.s. Not averse to enjoying a good view, Mel stayed in place, watching as the rest of the man was revealed. White b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, sleeves shoved up above his elbows, tawny hair past his collar, blowing in the wind.

Yep, there were a few perks to this job, one of them catering right to Mel's soft spot.

Pilots. This one looked more like a movie star pretending to be a pilot, but you wouldn't hear her complaining. And just like that, from the inside out, she began to warm up nicely.

The man held a clipboard, which he was looking at as he turned, ducking beneath the nose of the plane to come toe to toe with her, a lock of tawny hair falling carelessly over his forehead, his eyes shaded behind aviator sungla.s.ses.

And right then and there, every single l.u.s.t-filled thought drained out of Mel's head to make room for one hollow, horror-filled one.

No.

It couldn't be. After all this time, he wouldn'tdare show his face.

His only concession to the surprise was a raised brow as he lifted his sungla.s.ses, his sea green gaze taking its sweet time, touching over her own battered work boots, the dirty coveralls, the fiery, uncontrollable red hair she'd piled on top of her head without thought to her appearance. "Look at you," he murmured. "All grown up. G'day, Mel."

Yeah, he'd grown up, too. He was bigger, broader, and taller than the last time she'd seen him, but she couldn't mistake the smile-of pure, devilish, wicked trouble.

Australian accent, check.

Heart-stopping green eyes and long lashes to match the long, thick tumble of light brown hair falling in said eyes...check and check.

Curved mouth that could invoke huge waves of pa.s.sion or fury...CHECK. "Bo Black," she whispered, getting cold all over again.

c.o.c.king his head, he let out a slow smile. "In the flesh, darlin'. Miss me?"

Miss him? Yeah, she'd missed him. Like one might miss a close call with a hand grenade. "Get off my property."

As if he had all the time in the d.a.m.n world, he leaned back against his plane, slapping the clipboard lightly against his thigh. "No can do, mate."

"Oh, yes you can." Staggering at a strong gust of wind, she planted her feet more firmly as she pointed to his plane. "You just get your Aussie a.s.s back inside that heap of junk and fly it the h.e.l.l out of here."